Jealousy
by Stained Blue
Summary: A little jealousy, a little oblivion, and a little hurt...such is love.
1. Jealousy

Title: Jealousy  
Pairing: Jethro/Ducky  
Note: Don't own, please don't sue. Also, it's not that I don't like Palmer, it's just…Ducky and Gibbs are _meant_ to be. Gibbs' POV

I step out of the elevator, striding toward Autopsy. A tiny smile curls the corner of my mouth before I school my features again. When the doors breathe open in front of me, I can't help but notice how close Palmer is to Ducky, and I have to fight down a low growl. Even though Ducky is in the middle of explaining something, he stops and glances back at me, smiling.

That smile is all I need some days.

"Ah, Jethro! I expect you'll want to know about our dear Marine here," he says while beckoning to the charred body on the gurney. I smile back, "What do ya got for me Duck," while stepping closer. My fingers touch his back just barely while I lean over the body, giving Palmer a look.

His face pales, his lips sealing together while he tries to distance himself from Ducky. It doesn't take a genius to see the way he fawns over Ducky, flirts, tries so damn hard for acceptance. And while Duck is arguably the smartest man I know, he's oblivious. And Palmer? Palmer knows Duck is mine.

That soft voice rushes over me, instantly calming me as Ducky goes through the process of explaining every little thing to me. I'm the only one who listens to him, well and Abbey; DiNozzo and McGee rush him for the answers, Ziva's just impatient in general. They'll learn, someday. A man like Ducky, so full of words and wisdom and life, can't be rushed. He has to be doted on, cherished…loved.

He turns his face up to me, smiling, and I think how easy it would be to just tilt my head down and kiss him. Instead, I return his smile. He hands me the little evidence jar, and I lift if, watching the knife tip skirt around inside the container. "You're a miracle worker, Duck" I tell him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He doesn't seem to notice my thumb, barely touching his neck. I do. God Almighty, I do. Internally shuddering, I pull away, striding back toward the door before I do something I can't take back, something that could change everything.

"Thanks Duck," I call back over my shoulder as the doors breathe open in front of me. "Anytime Jethro," he calls back just before I'm out of sight.

In the elevator, I tilt my head down and concentrate on my breathing. Ever since that time Ari held him hostage, then the damn meat puzzles, Ari again…so many times I've almost lost him. And I know nothing will ever be the same again. Not ever. I won't be able to ever forget the desolation I felt when I almost lost him, the rage I felt toward the depraved people who dared touch his life.

No, things won't ever be the same.

The elevator doors ding open, and I'm in Abbey's lab, striding toward her. The music assaults my ears, but I carry on. She gives me a childish grin, throwing her arms about me, practically screaming "Gibbs!" She's the daughter I would have had, my replacement for Kelly.

Hugging her back with a more quiet, "Hey Abbs," I hand over the evidence. Even though she takes it from me, she doesn't get to work. Instead, she stares quietly at me. "What's wrong?" Shaking my head, I try to force the thoughts of Palmer with Duck away. "Nothing Abbey; how long do ya think it'll be before you have results?"

Finally, her attention turns to knife point. "Wow, Ducky is a genius. I can't believe he found a wound in that guy's bod, let alone the tip of a knife." I couldn't agree more, but instead I spit out "What do ya think about Palmer?" Her dark gaze lifts to mine, "Jimmy?" Then I see the realization dawn on her face, a coy smile curling her lips. "Oh my God, Gibbs, you're _jealous_." I give her a deadpan look, a warning, but she ignores it…of course.

"I should have known! Jimmy is always hanging around Ducky isn't he?" She gives me an understanding look. "Abbey," I manage to growl out, a warning that she's getting close to overstepping a boundary. She ignores me…of course. "Gibbs. It's okay. I know you love Ducky. And Ducky loves you too! It only makes sense that you'd be jealous of Jimmy, always around Ducky and his teeeeeerible case of hero worship…though can you blame him? Ducky is pretty great…"

"Abbey," I finally say, effectively cutting off her babble. I give her a look, and she imaginarily locks her lips, "Mums the word, Gibbs. Your secret is safe with me." Sighing, I turn to leave her lab, "Get to work. I need those results." Leaving the lab and heading toward the bullpen, I'm mentally kicking myself. Me and my big mouth.

With a sigh, I sit at my desk and silently thank God for a quiet day in the office. DiNozzo, McGee, and Ziva are all out in the field. And I let my thoughts wander. I remember the shock I'd felt the first time walking into Autopsy, expecting grumpy Doc Saunders, only to be met by a lovely blond with soft blue eyes. I hadn't been able to listen to a damn thing he'd said, that melodic British tone had washed over me and I'd been lost in those eyes, that smile.

Not much had changed really, except now I knew better than to make eye contact as soon as I walked into Autopsy.

Duck had been the one to help me through all difficulties with all my ex-wives, going to so far as to actually sow me up that one time Diane hit me with a 7 iron. He'd been my best man for all three weddings, and he remembers my anniversaries better than I do, showing up at the house with a bottle of good scotch to keep me from noticing my damn phone ringing off the hook.

Sitting at my desk, I run my fingers through my hair rapidly. I can feel my gut clenching, telling me I _need_ to tell Duck how I feel. He's my best friend. I love him, would kill for him…die for him. And every thought I have of Palmer somehow worming up the courage to express his feelings to Duck makes my heart cringe. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

I try to pay attention to the case as my team comes back, try to give insight and orders, direction…but it's hard. I'm distracted. I can't stop thinking about Ducky. So I wait less patiently than I should for the end of the day.

Around me, people leave the squad room, and I try to appear busy to give a reason for me being there. DiNozzo, McGee, and Ziva left a while ago, and I'm sitting in the relative dark. Finally, I work up the nerve and get to my feet. I walk slowly down to Autopsy, knowing that Ducky will be tucking his "guests" in, turning off the lights, checking over Palmer's work…getting ready to leave.

The doors open for me, and I feel lighter when I see him. He's shrugging on his overcoat by his desk, reaching for his hat, "Duck." He stops and looks at me over his shoulder, curiosity in those soft blue eyes as I walk over toward him. He smiles at me, and it's breathtaking, "Jethro, what are you still doing here…" then worry coats his voice, "you're not hurt are you?" And he reaches for me, concern lining his face, crinkling his brow.

Stepping up, I crowd him until he's leaning against the desk, curious still. "Nah Duck, I'm fine. Came to tell you something." He tilts his head to the side, his soft lips pursing gently. I have to wonder if he knows how beautiful he is. "…Jethro?"

My fingers are shaking as I cup his head, feeling the softness of his skin and heavy hair, and I'm leaning forward. The knots in my gut unravel slowly as my lips brush his before coming back to press against that soft mouth. I can feel him tense, the soft inhale, the fingers in my shirt. And at first I'm worried he'll push me back, but instead he's pulling me forward.

Everywhere our bodies touch burns, like he's on fire and I'm catching.

Finally, I pull back just enough. I can see his lips parted, the slight blush on his cheeks, and I wonder how I'll ever be this close to him again without kissing him. His eyes are closed, his sooty lashes fanned out on his cheekbones, and he looks so beautiful. My thumb brushes his cheek, and those brilliant eyes flutter open slowly.

I can't breathe. I'm getting lost in those eyes again, feeling my heart flip in my chest. "I love you Duck," I finally manage with our lips just a breath's distance apart. He smiles at me, a new light coming into those beautiful blue eyes, those lips are smiling at me, "What kept you?" I laugh softly, of course he knew. Duck always knows.

He tugs me forward again, kissing me again, and I crush him to me. I don't ever want to let him go, but then he's pulling free, giving me a coy smile. "You know, I'm glad you finally came to your senses my dear, because the jealousy you've been directing towards Mr. Palmer has made him very difficult to work with." He gives me a look, and I laugh tugging him close and leading him out of Autopsy. "Well, lemme make it up to you Duck; lemme buy you dinner."

That smile takes me off guard, so soft and gentle, loving. "But of course dear, whatever makes you happy." And I am. I have the person I love most in the world in my arms, loving me back. Of course I'm happy.


	2. Oblivious

Title: Oblivious  
Pairing: Jethro/Ducky  
Note: Still don't own; Ducky's POV

"Oh dear," I mutter softly, my eyes scan the burnt and charred body, looking for anything that could be significant. I can feel Mr. Palmer's gaze on me. His inattentiveness is beginning to wear on me as the light skirts all along the charred body, slowly giving me a headache. I sigh and snap out "Mr. Palmer." I know my voice is strained, and I should try to be more patient with him but this little crush is becoming more than I can bear.

I glance up at him, "If you can't hold the light still then I will have to ask you to leave." The moment he apologizes, I smile. I try to keep him at ease, Anthony is always abusing him while Jethro just makes him uneasy. "That's quite alright; you just keep jumping it around," and he nods as we reach this agreement for him to pay attention. Instantly, the light finds a spot and stills as Mr. Palmer focuses solely on the dead Marine in front of us.

Carefully, I scan the body, spreading skin crumpled together. "You poor man," I murmur to the Marine, feeling the skin break slightly under my touch. That's when I see it. The slit runs along the wrinkle, perfectly hiding it. But I'd wager most of my savings on this wound being the cause of death, as it is in a vital place. On a hunch, I let go of the skin and reach for tongs and scissors, "Mr. Palmer, a little help?" The young man nearly drops the light in his rush to come around the gurney and spread the skin where my fingers were just moments before.

The scissors cut through the skin with a feeling like thin rubber, and I concentrate on what I'm doing. Though, Mr. Palmer being this close to me makes me mildly nervous. I really don't want to encourage his feelings anymore, and Jethro has practically begun to hate the young man.

I can see a slight glint of metal through the muscles and veins. There's a slight sucking noise as the tongs grasp hold of the little glint and pull it free of the muscles grip. When the small glint of metal comes free, Mr. Palmer is more in my space, "What is it Doctor?" I lift the tongs up into the light, squinting at it to make sure I'm correct. "Well, Mr. Palmer, I do believe it is a knife tip. Our Marine was murdered. An evidence jar please, Jimmy."

Dropping the knife tip into an evidence jar, I glance at Mr. Palmer as he asks me the question of how I knew to look for it. I chuckle softly before giving him my explanation. "Well, Mr. Palmer, when extreme heat is applied to a body, it evaporates all the water in the body, thus causing the body to shrink in on itself. As there was no obvious sign of trauma, I knew to look in between the wrinkles. In fact, this reminds me of a time in my youth…" I stop as soon as I hear the doors open behind me.

Only one person has this good of timing.

Glancing over my shoulder, my heart flutters a little in my chest as the smile spreads across my lips. Those dark blue eyes lock on me as he moves closer, and I can see the smile lingering just at the corners of Jethro's mouth. "Ah, Jethro! I expect you'll want to know about our dear Marine here," and I motion at the burnt body in front of me.

"What do ya got for me Duck," his voice is low, as he steps into my space. I feel a light brush against my back, but I've grown accustom to these small touches. Jethro seemingly has to make certain that I'm really here, with him…and after all we've been through, I don't blame him.

I re-explain everything that I just touched on with Mr. Palmer. Jethro's eyes are on me, even though I'm looking at the body I can feel that gaze. It's strong, intense, and makes my skin tingle with electricity. Finally, I turn and look up at him and smile. Those rugged features soften as our eyes meet, and he smiles back at me. I can imagine, just for a second, that he's going to kiss me.

Instead, I hand him the evidence jar, which he lifts. "You're a miracle worker, Duck" he tells me in that low, deep tone, his hand touching my shoulder. I can just barely feel the tip of his thumb touching my neck. And it seems as though I'm not the only one affected as Jethro closes his eyes before pulling away. "Thanks Duck," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing through the doors. "Anytime Jethro," I call to his back.

Suddenly, I feel tired. I sit in the desk chair and touch my leg, "Jimmy, why don't you go make our afternoon tea, I'm feeling a little tired" I implore him. He rushes the room, and I rub at my thigh before leaning back against the chair back and closing my eyes. In about 30 minutes Mr. Palmer comes back with a tray carrying two cups of tea and some cookies. "Here we go," makes me open my eyes, eager for tea, as he sits down across from me.

I smile softly, "Thank you Mr. Palmer" I tell him as I reach for my cup. "You're most welcome Doctor. I believe you were telling me about a time in your youth concerning a burn victim?" I really wish he had forgotten, but instead I say "Ah yes…" and I begin the story. It's one from my days in medical school in Edinburgh, the entire case fairly similar minus the fact that the victim in this case is a Marine. I gesture and become animated, even though I know that Mr. Palmer is tuned out.

Finally, with the story done and my tea cup empty, I get up and take our dishes into the kitchen so that the young man will do the paperwork. Someday, he'll take my place in this morgue, but I'm still young…well as young as 60 years will allow. Slowly, I wash the dishes.

After about 20 minutes, I move back into the morgue, and glance over Mr. Palmer's shoulder. "Mr. Palmer, quitting time. I'll see you tomorrow." I let him know he's been dismissed, and then take his place to check over his work. I note a few spelling errors, which I correct, but otherwise it looks fairly well. Well…good enough to send up to Director Vance.

Slowly, I amble about the morgue and get the dead Marine situated in his locker, speaking softly to him. "I'm sure you'll find these dwellings to your liking. I keep my morgue very clean…and I've been in these lockers before, so no worries, they're perfectly safe." Then I begin to check the toe tags in each drawer, then all the supposedly empty lockers. One can never be too careful.

"Well Doctor," and I turn to smile softly at Mr. Palmer, "I'm gonna go ahead and head out. I'll see you in the morning." I give him a small wave, but I doubt he really sees it as he darts out the door as though I'll attack him. Shaking my head, I fondly mutter "That boy," before continuing with my search of the lockers. When I've checked them all, and found them empty, I collect my overcoat and move to the desk.

I glance back over the paperwork, stalling, before I start to shrug on my coat. About that time, I hear "Duck." I look over at Jethro, my heart stalling for a second before curiosity takes over. I smile at him as he moves toward me, "Jethro, what are you still doing here…" and then thoughts of unthinkably bad things appear in my mind, and I ask him "you're not hurt are you," thinking of the time Diane hit him in the head with a golf club. I reach out a hand, concerned.

Then he's in my space, crowding me backward before the backs of my thighs touch the edge of the desk, and I'm curious. I can really only imagine a few things that would involve him being this close, and my stomach does a nervous flop. "Nah Duck, I'm fine. Came to tell you something." I swallow hard and tilt my head to the side, lips pursed as I give him a searching look. "…Jethro.?"

He's cupping my head and leaning forward in what feels like slow motion. At the first brush of his lips against mine, I forget to breath. When his lips come back to press more firmly against mine, my heart stops. I tense, confused because he's not supposed to want this, not supposed to give me this, what I want. Then I force myself to breathe through my nose, my fingers touching his chest tentatively.

His body burns mine through his shirt, and at the last minute I can't push him away. My fingers curl in the fabric, pulling him closer, pressing up into that kiss.

He pulls back, but my eyes are closed. I'm so afraid of what I'll see when I open my eyes, so I keep them closed and live in this dream world for just a few seconds. Then I feel the rough pad of his thumb brushing my cheek, and I slowly open my eyes.

"I love you Duck." My heart stops. My stomach goes into free fall. _Finally_.

I smile gently, whispering "What kept you." Jethro laughs, and I can smell the coffee he drank earlier, still taste it on my lips. I tug him forward, kissing him again, and his strong arms come up and hold me tightly. Despite not wanting to let this moment end, I pull back, coyly smiling.

"You know, I'm glad you finally came to your senses my dear, because the jealousy you've been directing towards Mr. Palmer has made him very difficult to work with." He gives me a shocked look before laughing, tugging me closer and then leading me out of Autopsy. I would follow Jethro anywhere. "Well, lemme make it up to you Duck; lemme buy you dinner."

And that sounds perfect. I smile, gentle and loving, because we're on the same page now. "But of course dear, whatever makes you happy." Because when he's happy, so am I. That's how it's always been.


	3. Hurt

Title: Hurt  
Pairing: Jethro/Ducky  
Note: Not mine; Jimmy's POV. Poor Jimmy

Doctor Mallard is examining the burnt body of the dead Marine, and I'm examining him. His gaze is continually flickering behind those glasses, constantly moving and looking for evidence. He's so devoted. "Mr. Palmer," he cuts into my thoughts, glancing up at me briefly with a stern look, "if you can't hold the light still then I will have to ask you to leave." Blushing, I nod, "Sorry Doctor.

That stern look evens out into a smile, and it's beautiful. He's beautiful. That soft tone is lilting from that mouth, absolving me of all my sins. "That's quite alright; you just keep jumping it around." I nod quickly, my mouth suddenly dry. My fingers clench around the light, holding it still.

I'm not even sure what he's looking for. The Marine in front of us is burnt beyond recognition, and there's no obvious cause of death. Well…none that I can see. But then again, I'm not the ME; I'm just the Autopsy gremlin. If there's something here, I'm sure Doctor Mallard will find it.

Then those delicate but strong hands are prodding at the charred skin, spreading wrinkles, then reaching for the tongs and scissors. "Mr. Palmer, a little help?" I hurry to put down the light and then keep the skin spread just enough as Doctor Mallard cuts the skin and muscle before inserting the tongs, retrieving whatever it is he's found.

I can smell his aftershave, the soap scent lingering on his skin, the scent of his shampoo. I lean just a little closer in what, I hope, appears to be an attempt to see the object better. He holds it out in front of us, up into the light for both of us to examine better. "What is it Doctor?"

"Well, Mr. Palmer, I do believe it is a knife tip. Our Marine was murdered. An evidence jar please, Jimmy." My heart skips a beat when I hear him call me Jimmy as I rush to get a jar. Once again, I'm in his space as he drops the tip into the glass container. "How'd you know what to look for?" He always fills me with wonder.

His chuckle is soft, melodic before he answers. "Well, Mr. Palmer, when extreme heat is applied to a body, it evaporates all the water in the body, thus causing the body to shrink in on itself. As there was no obvious sign of trauma, I knew to look in between the wrinkles. In fact, this reminds me of a time in my youth…" I could listen to the Doctor's stories all day, but the doors are whirling open and Special Agent Gibbs is coming into Autopsy.

Instantly Doctor Mallard's attention goes from being solely mine to being completely focused on Gibbs. A smile is beaming its way across his soft lips. "Ah, Jethro! I expect you'll want to know about our dear Marine here," he says while beckoning to the charred body on the gurney. All sense of hostility melts from Gibbs as he focuses on Doctor Mallard. "What do ya got for me Duck," he's stepping closer to the Doctor, and I can see his fingers barely touch Ducky's back.

He gives me a look, it's a warning and it doesn't take a genius to see it. I'm too close, too _here_. And I shouldn't be…I should know better. I blanch, and try to scramble away from the Doctor as fast as I can. The last thing I need is to get between Gibbs and what's his. And Doctor Mallard is as oblivious as always. This isn't the first time Gibbs has run me off with just a look.

But that look promises to hurt me, tear me down and break me.

I try to find something to keep me busy while the Doctor explains what we've found to Gibbs. I glance over my shoulder at the pair. Special Agent Gibbs is in the Doctor's space, their clothes nearly brushing. How many times have I been asked to please back up? Too many. But then again…it's Gibbs, not me that's in Doctor Mallard's space.

Soon, but not soon enough for me, Gibbs is leaving with the evidence, and Doctor Mallard sits in the desk chair, touching his leg. He calls me over. "Jimmy, why don't you go make our afternoon tea, I'm feeling a little tired." I rush into the small kitchenette and put the kettle on, leaning on the counter.

Finally, it boils and I fix two cups of tea, just the way Doctor Mallard likes it. Carefully, I fix the tray with tea and cookie, before making my way back out to the desk. The Doctor looks tired, and I wish there was something I could do, but I can't. Sitting down, "Here we go," I tell him, gently coaxing his eyes open. I always forget how blue they are. He graces me with a smile, and my heart skips another beat, "Thank you Mr. Palmer." Nodding, I reach for my cup, "You're most welcome Doctor. I believe you were telling me about a time in your youth concerning a burn victim?"

"Ah yes…" and I tune him out. I've heard this story before, seemingly all of them before. I know them by heart, can recite them, so I just let the soft British tone wash over me while I sip my tea. He's so animated as he tells the story, gesturing greatly, and I can't help but smile.

I know my feelings are getting out of control. I could lose my job, and Doctor Mallard. And if Gibbs caught wind of something he feels is too…encroaching, I could lose my life. But the Doctor is too engaging by far. It's so hard being this close to him day in, day out and not develop feelings for him. I can only say, thank God the day's nearly done.

With teatime and the story over with, Doctor Mallard leaves me to write up the paperwork. He's slowly prepping me to take his place, but we both know he's still spry enough and won't be going anywhere anytime soon. Which is good. I'm more than content to be the Autopsy gremlin and listen to these stories on infinite loop, to look into those eyes, hear that voice, see that smile.

At exactly 4:00, he moves over to my desk, and I can feel him hovering over my shoulder. "Mr. Palmer, quitting time. I'll see you tomorrow." Nodding, I stand up quickly to let him sit down and look over my work, "Yes, Doctor." I go into the next room and begin to change into my street clothes. When I come out, he's talking quietly to the dead Marine, tucking the burnt body into one of the drawers. I watch Doctor Mallard check every drawer, as he does every night, saying goodnight to his "guests".

"Well Doctor," I finally say, and he turns to me with that soft smile, "I'm gonna go ahead and head out. I'll see you in the morning." I give him a quick smile and leave before I start feeling too awkward and shy. My heart is pounding in my chest as I practically run from the room. I really need to get these feelings under control. I walk off in the direction of the parking lot.

Stopping at my car, I reach into my pocket to retrieve my keys but find my pocket empty. With a sigh, I check my other pocket, then the pockets of my jacket. No keys. Sighing, I turn back and return the way I just came. I pull open the outside door and walk down the hallway toward Autopsy. What I see when the doors silently open makes me stop.

Special Agent Gibbs has Doctor Mallard backed against the desk, cupping his face, and then kissing him. I watch the Doctor's strong fingers curl in Gibbs' shirt, pulling the younger man closer. When Gibbs pulls back, I can see him rub his thumb over the Doctor's cheekbone, making those beautiful eyes flutter open. "I love you Duck," and my heart breaks.

I mean, sure I saw this coming, but to hear those words? It hurts.

It hurts even more to see the soft smile on the Doctor's lips, to hear him say "What kept you," because it seals my fault. It's more than apparent that Doctor Mallard loves him too. And then the Doctor is tugging Gibbs closer, kissing him again, and Gibbs' arms are coming up tight around him.

Backing out of the doorway, letting the doors close behind me, I turn around and try so hard not to run away from the situation. But I can't. I nearly trip over my feet, and I can feel the tears burning the back of my throat and eyes. When I finally make it back to my car, I'm out of breath and still without my keys. I lean over and pant hard, trying to calm down, but the ache in my chest makes it hard.

"Jimmy?" I look up at Tim, those soft eyes curious. "Are you okay?" I nod, standing up. "Yeah, I uh…" I rub the back of my neck, "I just forgot my keys in Autopsy and I'm pretty sure the doors are already locked." I hope he can't see Doctor Mallard's distinctive Morgan; that would ruin my lie. Instead, Tim doesn't bat an eye. He smiles at me, "I'll take you home."

I give him a crooked smile, "You sure? I don't wanna be a burden." He gives me that smile again, even as I rub at my eyes. "Sure. No problem." Nodding, I step toward Tim. "Uh…sure, okay. Thanks." I know my smile is awkward, shy but Agent DiNozzo makes it so hard for me to be accepted, even though Abbey seems fine with me. Maybe Tim's alright with me too. One can only hope…right? "Well, I'm parked over here," Tim tells me, and I follow him toward his car.


End file.
